House of Cards
by Imdris-FireDragon
Summary: Set directly after AHBL1&2, swinging straight into season 3; Sam and Dean find themselves thrown back in at the deep end quicker than they'd think...
1. Chapter 1

_**''HOUSE OF CARDS''**_

_Disclaimer: I'd only own 'em if I kidnapped 'em - darn! looks like I'm fresh out of cages... :) Fic s__et after AHBL1&2, and rated for turnin the air blue. Some idea's loosely based on certain Romany beliefs, so no offense intended - its all just fiction, folks._

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**_Southern Wyoming_**

Dean tossed the spent colt, catching Sam's eye as he slammed the trunk shut "We got work to do."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Arrochar, Scotland**_

"I see great change ahead of you, at home or even a move in job perhaps ..."

Amused, she huffed under her breath ... _such bullshit ... _proffering a smirk when their wrinkled old host glared venomously in her direction. Pete - to her disgust - was lapping this up. Expression open, pondering over each nonsensical bland little fishing statement, nodding away emphatically now and again as she poured over her glass orb. _Christ ... _she rolled her eyes, slouching further down in her seat and sighing loudly, earning her yet another scowl.

Languidly, she glanced around the worn little tent, taking in the bizarre haphazard array of no-doubt utterly pointless bargin-bin basement crap, the assorted bric-a-brac which cluttered the place. A tattered yellowing banner proclaiming the old romani to be 'attuned to the spirits, beings from worlds beyond' caught her eye, and she smothered a laugh - _wonder what Mulder would have to say about that ..._

"Glad to see your finding my company so entertaining"

Starting 'round at the voice, she met the withered old woman's piercing gaze. "Huh? No, look - sorry, I mean no offense, really - its just ..." she shrugged letting the sentence die off in the air. Pete was sitting back in his chair, failing miserably to keep the self-satisfied smug look off his face.

"Not a believer?"

_No shit, sherlock ... _Dryly, easier than explaining, she answered "You could say that "

The old woman nodded into herself, knowingly, and she could see the beginnings of a lecture starting up. Inwardly, she groaned. ... _Ohh fucking hell ... _

Just as she was about to cut her losses, simply get up and leave - mate or no mate, Pete could sit here and swing for all she cared - he stood up next to her, shaking the old gypsy's hand and thanking her profusely.

Silently, she thanked whatever deity had been listening and, seeing her que to leave, grabbed her bike helmet from under her seat practically lunging for the exit _... finally..._

"Woah, hold yer horses" Pete stalled her getaway, wrapping his fingers firmly around her shoulders, stepping around infront of her. The smug look, she noted, was still firmly fixed in place. Physically turning her around, he leaned in breezily and with a gentle yet determined push shoved her back towards her seat "Your turn"

"NO WAY! _Wait !_ I ..." she started, horrified as he ducked out the tent with a wink, left facing nothing but canvas as his sing-song voice carried back to her "I've already paid ... And remember! you promised! "

This time, she did groan. Next time she needed to make a gorram apology, she set some damn ground rules for payment.

The old woman cleared her throat, and she winced. _Im going to kill him when I catch him ... fucking git ..._

Turning, she held her hands up in what she hoped was a placating gesture "Look, No offense, honest, but this isnt really my thing, y'know ..."

"Sit"

"Plus, Im not entirely comfortable with this, _so _... " she thumbed over her shoulder, about to back out the door, when the old romani looked up from her tidying, her face stern, eyes glittering dangerously.

"Money has already crossed my palm. The deal is _done_. Now, **SIT** "

Somehow, she found herself back in the chair without ever really considering how that actually happened - the tone of the womans voice scoring like a lash, reminding her of that sole same talent, she mused, her father - and scarce few notable others she'd crossed swords with - possessed. _damn._The old woman muttered under her breath, shuffling around, and searching amongst the assorted junk before carrying a small wooden box back over to the freshly cleared table and placing it down with a _thump_.

Watching her warily, the wrinkled old woman set about retrieving several small items from inside. A solid carved wooden bowl she filled with a little water and centered it between them, muttering: proceeding then to place battered stubs of coloured candle on either side of them, she hesitated then, giving a quick sidelong glance, before reaching inside the box quickly for what looked like a small brown medicinal bottle with a dropper for a lid, muttering all the while. Lastly and with more ease, the withered old crone placed a deck of well-worn shuffled cards on the table, resumed her seat, and began to light the candles with a guttering match.

The silence in the little tent was deafening, and it made her skin crawl.

Slowly, conversationally, the old woman began to speak "So, _gadje_ ... have you ever spoken with a _drabardi_ such as I before? in matters such as advising or _drabarimos_? Hmm?"

Seeing the look of confusion, the gypsy's voice dropped and she deadpanned " _Fortune_, child - have you ever had your future foretold? "

"No"

The drabardi cracked a lopsided grin "then, how do you know? how can you disbelieve something you've never even experienced? Hmm ?"

Recieving no answer other than an icy stare the woman clucked her tongue, adding "_foolishness..."_ she lifted a candle, passed it over the bowl of water once, twice, before dripping some of the molten black wax onto the water's surface and placing the candle down. With the barest edge of her fingers, she pushed the deck of cards towards her "Now, cut those"

"No way"

"Cut the deck"

"Not godamn likely"

The drabardi grew angry, reaching over far more swiftly and with more force than she would have given her credit for - grabbing her nearest hand and knocking the deck in half with it; even as she wrenched it back with a growl of annoyance. Seemingly satisfied, the withered old gypsy ignored her; laid out seven cards from the top of the fresh cut, all face down in the shape of a cross on the velvet table cover, the seventh and final card sat to the base and side of her design before carefully returning the rest to the box. Jaw clenched, she drummed her fingers on the edge of her seat, impatient more than ever_ 'to just get it the fuck over with'_

"Now" the gypsy fixed her dark eyes on her, intent, before reaching over the bowl to tap the center card with one wizened curled finger "This, this is your past " moved to the left, indicating "this, the problems your faced" moved on then to the right, adding "and this, this was your solution"

Returning to the top of the cross deign, she tapped the card placed there "This is the present" she moved down vertically, to the card directly below the center "and here is the problems you face, and this " she indicated the bottom card of the design "this is the solution"

"The last" she waved at the card outwith the pattern, closest to her "represents your future"

_Yeah, right ..._

"Now, place your hands palms up, on either side of the cards, and we'll begin your reading, _gadje_ "

Reluctantly, she did as she was told, sighing almost miserably, holding onto the thoughts of _'I can get through this_ _... c'mon, just ten minutes, an it'll be over with ..."_

The gypsy settled herself, rubbed her hands together and stretching out her fingers, before hunching herself expectantly over the first card. Flipping it over with a long painted enamel-chipped nail, she began to speak in her rough, grating lilt.

"Your past ... ahh, is the **_Hanged Man_**. He represents waiting, self-sacrifice ... it suggests a life overturned and in suspension. Not, p'raps as it should have been?"

Dark eyes reflected the light, as she flipped the next card "Problems in times past - is **_The Chariot_**, inverted ... it portrays Conquest, a battle; the steeds harnessed to the chariot represent powerful forces at your command, yet this was a battle which you were in danger of losing through a lack of control ... reckless, fighting fire with fire even as flames took hold ... "

_Flick_

"Now, the solution - the path you chose out of your problems ... " an eyebrow rose as the faded picture on the card met the light, her voice taking on a tone of increduality "...was **_Death_**..."

She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable "**_Death_** follows the **_Hanged Man_**, for it is the threshold he must pass before he can journey through the Underworld, and be reborn. It shows, you became caught in the unescapable, and therefore had nought left but to experience the ending of a cycle, the elimination of old patterns; to face a transition into a new state, perhaps what I imagine would best seem to show for you, a psychological transformation ... does this mean anything to you ? "

The Gypsy didnt wait for her answer, brow furrowed.

_Flick_

_Yeesh ... dont break out the happy pills on my account ... maybe she's worried I'm gonna ask for the money back ..._

"Bringing you forth to your present, the here and now ... is **_Nine of Swords_**, inverted. The card of the martyr, it shows a new life borne of suffering - this way, it means for you distrust, suspicion, despair, misery or malice. Y'see here, _gadje? _" she tapped the card "it shows a figure on a bridge, symbolizing your being between worlds of dreaming and reality, or also of life and death ... "

By now, the withered drabardi was looking troubled, glaring at her darkly from under heavy brows. Unwittingly, she started fidgeting, lifting her right hand away from the tabletop, twirling one of her silver pendants between her finger and thumb. The old cow was getting under her skin.

"The problems you face now... " _Flick _"... the _**Five of Cups**_ - five is all about loss, both tangible and/or intangible. It stands as a clear warning - the more we struggle to hold on to what is gone, the more we suffer..."

Her voice trailed off into a whisper, and she simply looked at the card silently. For one so olive-skinned, she'd turned ashen. Without meeting her eyes, she indicated towards her with one painted claw, wrist tinkling with trinkets.

"Raise your hand"

Obediently, she lifted her left hand away from the cards, palm up, scooting forward in her chair and balancing her elbow on the tables edge.

The drabardi slid the bowl of water much closer to herself, lifted the little glass dropper from inside the dusty brown bottle, filled with clear liquid. Upon seeing her questioning look and rapidly closing palm she reassured "It's just water, child, nothing more " Grasping her fingers ends with ease and emptying the dropper's contents into the center of her cupped palm before she could complain, she bade her keep her hand aloft as she finished the reading.

_Great, im sitting here like a godammed fool holding a handful of god-knows-only-what. Perfect. Just bloody perfect... Pete's in SO much trouble when I catch him. Only two cards left, thank god. Talk about hearing some depressing shit ... honestly ..._

"Now, to the solution to the problems that face us now..." the change in teminology didnt pass her unnoticed, nor did the drabardi's abrupt drop in tone as she continued to speak "...the way out is _**Justice**_."

She cleared her throat "The _**Justice**_ card reminds us that we are imperfect. When this card appears, it asks us to identify and indeed claim our mistakes ... and to perhaps apologize, beg for forgiveness "

There was an uncomfortable pause; then the drabardi snapped "Are you recognising any of this ?" with that whiplash tone.

_Leave the skin, please_

"Truthfully? no. But then again, I didnt expect to." She gave a short laugh "Perhaps, its not my destiny you're reading _drabardi_, after all, you touched the cards too - I didnt - well not willingly, anyway "

_"Cristo"_ she mumbled, looking up sharply.

"What?" amused, looking straight at her, cocking her head to the side, thinking _did she just say 'cristo' at me ? surely not ..._

"Huh, nothing ..." uncomfortably shifting, the gypsy woman continued, in a hurry now for her to be gone from her tent "Now, see here, to the final card in your _drabarimos_" she turned the other cards back over, pushing them aside, before tapping the back of the seventh and last concealed card, pushing it forward into view, across the worn velvet coverlet until the card lay between them

"This should give you guidance, a glimpse into what is yet to come ... the future is always in motion, but this should show the way" she turned the card, peering intently at her to gauge her reaction, rather than look down.

_FLICK_

Pointing at the card - "Do you do refunds ?"

The joke fell on deaf ears. The drabardi was looking down, horrorified, at the plain white unadorned card. Mouth agape, her head snapped back up; just as she went to say something funny to try and diffuse the situation, she realised the old woman's aghast eyes were riveted on her palm.

The clear water had turned a deep azure blue, like luminous spilt ink. Stunned, she went to look closer at the gleaming swirling phosphorescent liquid, when she was abruptly soaked

" WHAT the FUCK ?!? Are youfuckingnuts ???"

The old gypsy woman had flung the contents of the wooden bowl over her as she hastily sprung away from the table, knocking her chair sideways and spilling the box of cards all over the floor. She was yelling, cursing, pointing at her and yelling _"tsinivari! tsinivari!" _at the top of her lungs. Abruptly, the canvas covering was thrust aside and a burly dark young guy ran in. Immediately, the old woman was behind him, babbling away incoherrantly in some language foreign to her and gesturing wildly in her direction.

Thoroughly pissed now and already on her feet, she shook off the water, wax and weird bluish liquid; snatching up her helmet and snarling at the guy now squaring up to her, as if he was expecting her to attack

"She's seven shades worth of crazy - in future, you should think about keeping the senile old bitch on a fucking leash! "

So when he lashed out immediately, catching her on the shoulder and swinging open her jacket; she was more than ready to feign left, follow through with a punch to his jaw of her own. He went down slightly, seeing stars. Getting back up, the old gypsy grabbed him, stalling his movement.

The tarot cards on the floor, lying about their feet, were blank.

"Yeah, neat cover up, lady - but believe me, you can go shove your parlour tricks ..." Frozen, they both stared at her. Or more specifically, stared at her throat. Her silver wolf's head pendant shone dully in the low light, and she lifted it, tucking it away in her shirt. The drabardi lifted one trembling finger, pointing at her

_"muló"_

"You know what? Funnily enough, I've no idea what muló means, but fuck you too " she spun on her heel, and stormed out of the tent into the night, even as their raised voices dogged her footsteps

_"MUL'O !!!"_

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_all reviews welcome - as always :) language translations come later (wait n' see...)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

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**_Southern Wyoming_**

The four of them packed up the Impala and Bobby's tow-truck in a relatively awe-struck silence; the sheer magnitude of what'd just happened, slow to sink in ... it wasn't until Dean pulled them back onto the highway headed for South Dakota behind the big blue Ford that Sam even spoke up again.

"So" he sighed, "whats the plan?"

Dean just continued to drive one handed, the other arm braced against the driver's door frame, leaning his head on his knuckles and keeping his eyes on the road.

"Hell, I figured a coupla beers, a warm shower, some sleep - just kick back for a day or two before we hit the road again. Hardly what I'd planned for when we finally killed that yellow-eyed sonofabitch, but hey" shrugging, changed gear "Guess Im not much in the mood for celebrating - well, not yet, anyways" he flash a tired, cocky grin.

"That wasn't what I meant, man, an' you know it ... We've got to find how to get you outta this deal, Dean. When we reach Bobby's, we can get started digging - see what information comes up ... "

Trying to let it roll off his tongue so easily, casually like, but the words stuck in his throat. The thought of Dean doing what Dad did, trading his soul - _for __**him**__, no less_ - was eating him up inside.

_What's dead should stay dead_

"Yeah, well - good luck with _that_ "

"Haha, very funny ... Wait, man, you're _serious_?"

He never lifted his eyes from the road, simply kept driving. Incredulous, Sam gaped at him.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope"

"You're _actually_ telling me, your not even going to _look_ for a way out of this?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you"

Voice laced with anger, Sam made a face "And why not?"

Ripping out another savage gear-change before gunning the engine; gripping the steering wheel, Dean tapped his fingers frowning at the road ahead for a few tense moments, hearing again her sickly sweet voice, echoing in his ear

_'Here's the thing...__ If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So...it's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?'_

He sighed, quietly."I can't, Sammy..."

"...Look, It's sorta a condition of the whole thing. I try to interfere, then that's it - deal's off. She was damn clear about it too" Dean eyeballed his little brother "So count me out on this one - Really, I mean it. I dont want to know what you're doing, what you find, nothing - Cos If I know, then sure as hell, she's gonna find out about it. And I dont plan on just _handing_ that demonic bitch a prize opportunity to break the deal..."

He looked straight at Sam "So dont ask"

There was that determination in his eye again, the one that said louder than words - _the subject's closed, Sam, so drop it_

"Fine " Sam crossed his arms, face set "But im not giving up. I'm getting you out of this..."

_If its the last thing I do_

"_Yeah_ sure, Great - you do that." Dean nodded, rehetorically, like he was asking him whether or not he wanted coffee in the morning._"_But, in the meantime," he added, pushing in a tape " I'm just gonna enjoy the break, the rest, and of course - hanging out wi' my bro " he smirked.

Dean, acting so calm? Was freaking him out, big time. The whole situation was just ... wrong. So very very wrong.

As the sounds Metallica's _St.Anger _began to fill the car, Sam winced as the first flash of pain lanced behind his eyes. - _Oh great, perfect timing! - _Rubbing his forehead, then pinching the bridge of his nose as the pain began to build, just managing to choke out a strangled "_Dean !"_ as the lancing spikes turned into white hot skull-bursting fury. Teeth clenched together, tasting blood, he was vaguely aware of everything going swinging around crazily before it all went black.

"_FUCK!!!!_ " Sam slumped in the passenger seat, blood pouring from his nose, like a puppet with cut strings.

Slamming on the brakes so hard, the car whipped round, slewed sideways onto the gravel at the roadside; Dean catching him before he hit his head hard on the Impala's dash.

"Sammy?!? SAM ??? "

For a split second, thinking _no no no, No No NO !!! Leave him alone, bitch, we had a deal ! _Until he heard him gasp, fell his heart hammering against his chest in the throes of a vision. Taking a deep breath, Dean barked at him, furiously terrified "C'mon, Sam, snap out of it !"

Sam, convulsing, gasped for breath; Dean holding his lanky frame tight against his chest, sheilding him from hurting himself off any of the car's interior when the passenger door was yanked open, Bobby appearing larger-than-life and suddenly just _there. _"Help Me!"

"Jesus Christ " he swore, helping pin him back in his seat until the convulsing subsided. Still out of it, blood dripping down his pallid face onto his shirt, Dean perched halfway across the interior to take Sam's head in his hands. Raising him slowly, he peered at his little brother's bloodied exhausted face, "Sammy ? Sam, dude, speak to me "

He cracked a weary eye open, taking in the two worried faces hanging over him "Uhhh... " he coughed, and rasped "Hi Bobby..."

"_Jesus_, Sam ... " Dean let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, pulled back to look at him properly "What the hell was that ?!?!? "

"Vision, I guess ..." He coughed "Uhh, I feel terrible..." leaning his head on the dash, forgetting Dean would probably be mad at him later for getting blood all over the Impala, groaning he closed his eyes. Over his head, Dean just looked at Bobby, expression masking barely controlled anger, mixed with more than a little worry. Ellen, standing at the back of the battered blue Ford's tailgate since it'd been near enough abandoned in the middle of the road, asked "Is he okay?"

"Yeah" Dean shouted back, unmoved from his perch at Sam's shoulder. "So, again - what the fuck was that all about ?"

Sam, dragged himself up off the dash, mumbling "Some girl..." When he rubbed his eyes again, he paused, squinted out though the windscreen. Weakly pointing, he said "That looks about right... didn't make much sense to me, but im guessin, you'll soon see for yourself..."

Opening the driver's door, Dean half-stepped out. Overhead, just slightly down the road, thick black storm clouds were converging; gathering, pulling in impossibly fast - its swirling epicenter a mass of tempestous black shredded thunderclouds. Even the wind began to pick up, the odd piece of stray lighting striking the tarmac. All in all, not bad for a cumulo-nimbus that was only a few meters wide, stirring up a tempest in an otherwise clear sky. _Nothin' much unusual with that at all', then_

Dean ducked his head back into the car "Demon?"

Sam just shrugged "I .. I don't think so... I dont... know..." he put his head back on the dash - there was no doubt about it, The kid looked like hell. _Godamn it ! _

"Huh" Dean growled sarcastically, catching and cocking the shotgun Bobby tossed to him out the trunk "This day's just getting better an' better, ain't it? "

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	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

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_**Arrochar, Scotland**_

She'd made it all the way back over to the gravelly carpark, dodging the rest of the small travelling fayre, fishing the keys out her pocket and sliding her leg over the comforting presence of her 'bike - _hiya baby - _muttering all the while under her breath about _damn crazy old fool's _before she realised not only was the psycho old bitch still following her, in fact, she'd pretty much gained a whole new entourage. And all of them looked either pissed, or scared. Or both. Wait a minute - _was that a godammned pitchfork ?!? _

_Ohh, thats just fantastic ... _she sighed, adding _... Well, screw this for a lark. Pete, yer' on yer' own._

She figured she'd ring him from the next petrol station she came across outwith the little lochside village - _stuff hanging 'round here_ - arrange to meet up with him someplace on the road home.

Switching on the bike's engine, flicking on the lights, hearing the reassuring _roar_, feeling _thrum _of the engine below her like a heartbeat; she slipped on her 'lid, pulling on the thick black leather of her gloves. Suddenly, a flash of sheer pigheadedness, her all-encompassing resentment prompting her to to flip up the front of her helmet and face the gathering crowd, who were still heralding her with shouts of "_muló...muló" and _making signs in front of them as if warding her off.

" Look - why dontcha all just go and fuck _right_ off? Im not interested. " she spat venomously

The withered old drabardi stepped forward dark eyes sparking in the fading light, waving god only knows what at her; speaking low and fast, incoherrant in her own tongue, catching only _muló, bixbaxt, machrime _and something else about _amria_ . Still seething, she jerked her head in the old gypsy's direction, glaring at her with hate-filled eyes

"Hah, guess you didnt hear me the first time, then - why dont you toddle off? go back to conning the next gullible fool, you old cow ... " She clicked the bike down into first gear, but holding the thrumming beast in place "But, better yet, why dont you do everyone a favour?_ simply drop dead, you twisted sonofabitch "_

Suddenly, the crowd around her was eeriely silent.

The drabardi let out a keening wail and fell to her knees, lamenting.

"Ohh for christ's sake !!!!" she snapped, exsperated; let out the clutch, pulling away from the crazy old gypsy and her cronies in a hail of crunching gravel chips. Turning back onto the main road, the quicker she could put that creepy little travelling freakshow in her rearview mirrors, the better.

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Just under half an hour later, with night falling, she pulled into a layby on the deserted highland road; flicked down the sidestand and killed the engine. Pulling off her helmet and running a hand through her long loose hair, she sighed, swinging her leg over the tail of the bike before setting her 'lid down at her feet, an leaned back against the seat. Flipping open her phone, she scrolled through her contacts list and dialled pete - only for it to go straight onto voicemail. Which meant one of two things - either he wasnt talking to her for ditching him, or he was on the road. Or quite possibly, both.

Figuring he'd most likely to pull over when he felt his phone vibrating in his inner pocket, she texted him instead

_Sorry dude, but it got a bit too crazy back there - you an your bright ideas! I'll explain when I see you. Goin for petrol, meet me at the Green Welly ... _knowing the biker's favourite pitstop was the closest petrol station in the area for them both to get to. Shoving her mobile back into her pocket, she bent to retrieve her helmet when headlights from an approaching line of traffic momentarily dazzled her. She blinked repeatedly as it passed, pulling on her helmet but leaving her visor flipped open; sitting and switching on the bike in one fluid, easy motion. The sound of breaks slamming on, and sudden red lights made her head snap up.

The van and car that'd passed her last reversed back hard, swinging around, blocking the road ahead even as one of its passengers stepped down and out, raising something dark to his shoulder

_what the hell ?!?!_

He acknowledged her coldly even as his hands moved, a brisk nod "_Muló"_

She'd reacted before she realised, even as the wooden post she'd been beside milliseconds before shattered and splintered; hunching down against the tank, teeth clenched, kicking the bike into first gear and screeched 'round and away, burning rubber on tarmac - headed back the way she'd came, even as that first shotgun report echoed back off the hills.

Tossing a quick look behind her, she could just make out the passenger clambering hurriedly back into the first vehical, before both came gunning after her in hot pursuit.

Flipping the bike over on its side, adrenaline coursing, wind stinging in her eyes; the ground passed as little more than a fast moving blur as she screamed into the first tight corner, before opening the throttle and powering out its apex. Hunching down behind the little flyscreen, body molded to the tank, she pushed the shrieking machine farther than she'd ever pushed it before. Yelling at herself -_ christ, dont fail me now !_

Glancing back in her right mirror, her pursuers were rapidly diminishing dots in the distance; before another set of bends in the road extinguished the sight of them completely. Still, she didn't stop - heart hammering in her ears, she fled - striving to put as much distance between them and her; mentally planning the next few obstacles, hoping for previously unnoticed junctions, weaving back and forth across the white line to use all of the road without having to scrub off any of her speed; aiming when she could see it was clear, and a few times when she couldn't. Hoping to find any and all routes to get her along or off this damn road any second faster than she physically already could.

Spotting a couple of cars crawling along up ahead, after a quick check she dropped a gear, flicked the bike out, passing them in a flash even as she set up for the next corner; taking it wide when it turned out to be sharper than it looked, hugging the white line - seeing the lorry coming towards her a little too late ...The trucker flashed his lights, leaning on his horn

In the moment of blind faith that followed, she held her breath - skimmed by him close enough to feel the wind of his passing, wonder how it had been possible to get by him at all, when she could've sworn there hadn't been the physical space to.

_somebody up there still likes me_

No time to think on it now, she surged onwards, racing against the wind like a bird on the wing, as if the devil himself was nipping at her heels - knowing full well there was a junction coming up in but a few miles; she could get off and start putting some serious mileage between herself and the clearly unhinged sociopaths that wanted to use her for target practice... descending into the last bend, she finally slowed slightly, preparing to make the turn across the junction straight after this last corner. _Nearly there ..._

Slamming on both brakes, bike squealing in protest, she fought to keep her grip on the bars as the bike slid towards the blocked junction to an abruptly sickening halt. A bitter acidic taste invaded her mouth, chest tightening, feeling like her heart had just plummeted down through her chest - she surveyed the scene before her quickly; the battered, beat-up wreak of a van parked horizontally across the road, it and its three occupants - already pointing shotguns at her - spread out across the tarmac, effectively blocking her escape route. For a second, she entertained the thought of turning 'round and running again, but that was quickly silenced by the sight of two rough-looking gypsies appearing just behind her, crashing out from where they'd been concealed in the underbrush, pointing firearms at her back. Numbly, she realised

_oh shit ..._

Slowly raising her hands, she glanced wide-eyed from one guy to another; complying when he snapped in coarse english "Turn it off - and lose the helmet ..."

Trembling imperceptibly, she switched off the engine. Clambering off, she pulled her 'lid from her head, leaving it on the ground at the roadside next to the 'bike, the keys in the ignition. Stupidly, she was half-hoping half-planning her escape, even as they frogmarched her but few steps away from it, towards the others.

By this point, the rest of the pursuing pack had arrived; blocking off the opposite end of the road, her heart sank yet further when she recognised the extra cars - the one she'd overtaken - not as innocent motorists, like she'd secretly been hoping, but instead contained several more of the camp's travellers. _oh no ... _

"STOP"

She halted before from the small gathering; hands still held before her placatingly. What she saw next, did nothing to assuage her fears. Stepping out, the hostile crowd parted for the old gypsy drabardi, who smiled at her, unnervingly

"_You! "_ she hissed at her "_What in hell ..." _

Immediately, excuriciating pain star-bursted behind her eyes - she stumbled forwards to her knees with a cry, grey/black speckles swarming across her vision, only partially hearing the shuffling feet and harsh whispers surrounding her. Something warm and wet trickled down the side of her temple. Dizzy, she touched her face, fingers coming away dark red, sticky with her own blood. Shocked, a mirthless laugh left her as she watched it drip thickly onto the ground.

" You're all crazy ... " she whispered

_Im going to die here_

Somebody racked a shotgun next to her ear. She froze, anticipating.

"I wouldn't speak again, _Muló ... _you keep your filthy lizards tongue behind your teeth! ..." somebody snapped. Something was hastily being poured around her in symbols, lines, being thrown over her; the red-ish thick cloying dust clinging to her skin, hair, leathers. Dazedly, she tried to push herself more upright, raising her head, realising they now loosely encircled her and her bike amongst them; dark-eyed strangers, some bearing torches, yet all staring at her, on her knees in the center of the circle they'd created with the same revulsion. The drabardi continued to empty a container of the thick red sand-like substance around the periphery of the circle, an arms length away, completing the circut; speaking out loud dramatically and aiming her words heavenwards, even as the others continuing cresendo; their mantra's, hissing whispers, slowly began to overwhelm her; The old drabardi's dominant voice lacing through the unreal haze.

"_ Muló ... tsinivari _that you are, _Beng_ cannot aid you now... Before the eyes of _Del, _in this place, we claim the right of Justice - to ask forgiveness, from the spirit; to restore balance, and remove this _marimé _of nature from our midst - "

Vision spinning, her head throbbed painfully where the unyeilding butt of the shotgun had connected with her skull, dulling her senses; icy tendrils of fear wrapping around her heart, the growing constricting tightness in her chest - she struggled to speak, to plead, beg, anything - desperate now, the need to survive compelling; yet, traitorous limbs wouldnt obey her; feeling deadened, as if she was struggling under an ever increasing lead weight, crushing her into the earth. Gasping when more pain lanced through her chest, she wrapped her arms around her own torso; without warning, feverishly feeling like all her energy, everything that was _her _was being siphoned; carelessly, agonizingly being ripped away and drained from her.

_" What ..._" She gasped out, pleading between gritted teeth"...what are you doing to me ... stop ..._please! _please, stop _...stop ..."_

Harsh, mocking laughter assaulted her, and she winced, forcing herself to look upwards; the gypsy's grin twisted displaying the cruelty beneath, quoting:

_"__you stand on the brink; between worlds of dreaming and reality, or of life and death... " _stepping closer but failing to enter the inner circle. Instead, simply leaning forwards, grinning like a predator at its next meal

"you are an abhorration, _Muló_... you should never have existed; not here, and not now... _Im simply sending you back where you belong"_

The prenatural wind picked up, whipping her hair around, stinging in her eyes._ C'mon - Get up !!! _Breathing hard, she tried to struggle to her feet even as they hissed at her; biting back a cry as another vicious blow to the skull sent her sprawling, assaults of pain racking and twisting her body. Falling forward onto her hands, weakened, lost and drowning under wave after wave of agony she clenched her eyes shut and felt the world _slide_; like it was intangible, growing dim, flickering in and out of focus.

_"Oh god..."_ slipped out, unknowingly_ "...not like this - _not like this_ ... help me ..."_

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

* * *

**_Southern Wyoming_**

Stalking ahead, the four Hunters moved forward together, alert. Gun in hand, eyes fixed on the spinning unexplicable storm raging before them, Dean yelled back over his shoulder, aiming to be heard over the snatches of disembodied voices carrying on the howling wind

"SAM ?!?"

"I don't see anything ..." He turned, scanning the woods, flinching just as another bolt of lightning cracked the asphalt beside them. Suddenly "... WAIT, Dean, _look!_ "

In the whirlwind's center, several distorted spectral figures slowly materialised from the swirling mists; stepping forward, guns raised, even as they began to take shape and form; the central figure, illuminated unlike the others in a soft etheral glow, stood out from the rest - struggling to stand, gradually becoming clearer than others hemming it in. Dean frowned _what the hell ?..._

Savagely, a blackened silhouette sprung forward, striking the figure to its knees. _"Hey !" _he snapped, aiming in the assailants direction, when several things happened all at once. _One_, Dean's foot broke a faintly reddish incorporeal line, scattering the sandy substance. _Two,_ all the figures apart from the central figure started, swung around in his direction, and _Three_, suddenly everything - and everyone - inside that eerily quiet storm-circle instantly became _real_ fucking substantial.

About a foot away from him stood a dozen or so rugged dark-skinned armed men, surrounding a woman's figure on the floor. A motorbike stood off to the side, discarded, and frozen over her gloating in the act of smiting her down, a leathery-faced wrinkled old crone looked at him, mouth open in shock; transfixed, the words dying on her lips. Dumbstruck, in the silence that immediately followed the woman on the ground gasped - eyes screwed shut, fingers gripped the floor, and her entire body _blurred; _flickering in and out of focus like a badly aligned movie frame just for a few seconds, causing him to blink in disbelief.

_"Oh god..."_ the words were whispered into herself_ "...not like this - _not like this _... help me ..."_

Startlingly freed from her daze, the old woman raised her pointed finger at them and _screeched, _all hell breaking loose around them. The guy closest to Dean immediately turned on him, and he didnt hesitate to think twice about emptying both barrels of rock salt into the guy's chest. He went down, hard; even as the next contender swung a right hook which he dodged under, shoving him off balance with the breadth of the gun before uppercutting him across the face with it - splattering blood and cartilage. Breaking the barrel, he shook out the used shells and jammed two others into the breach, snapping it back in place just in time - the next guy lifted him from his feet with a flying rugby tackle to the gut, slamming them both to the floor; he grunted, winded, his gun skittering across the asphalt out of reach.

Dodging aside, Sam caught sight of the bigger man pinning his brother to the ground - Dean struggling furiously, kicking and trading punches - even as his attacker wrapped his hands doggedly about his throat and squeezed. Fighting his way towards him, Sam reached him; just as Bobby emptied his shot into the man's side causing him to collapse on top of him.

_"Argh!"_ Dean, disgusted, found himself trapped beneath the unconcious dead weight "_Get this fugly bitch off me_ !"

Rolling over, Sam helped pull him up, bruised, to his feet. Brushing off the dust, he surveyed the damage. Ellen held two at bay, hands in the air, shotgun pointed at their backs. Bobby was still trading punches with one other, and the rest were either down, unconcious or just plain _gone_ altogether. The old woman, he noted, was lying rocking slightly on the tarmac groaning, a patch of blood and torn cloth marring her shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, he didnt care.

Catching sight of the leatherclad female, lying within reach of the old woman, dazedly attempting to push herself to her knees he nudged Sam towards her, before nodding in Bobby's direction and sweeping up his gun on the move "Get the girl ... I'll see to this"

Cautiously, moving across the still windswept bodies-strewn circle, he side-stepped over the prone figures until he was beside her. Reaching down, placing a hand gently on the girl's shoulder and softly speaking,

"_Hey_, its alright..."

_SNIKT_

"Get away from _it"_ a voice snapped, chillingly. Sam looked up, straight down the barrel of a shotgun. The old gypsy was on her feet, grimly, waving him away from the girl using the buisness end of a 12-bore

"_Move!!!"_

Seeing Dean and Bobby carefully creeping up on her, Sam stepped slighty to the side keeping his hands in the air before him. Reasoning, "Its no use, you know...I mean, just look around - you're outnumbered. So... why don't you just put the gun down, and we'll..."

Cackling, she abruptly cut him off "I don't think so... I may be outnumbered, but the _muló _is still going to die..." she cocked her head to the side, considering - and smiled, pulling the trigger " ..._As are you"_

_"NOOOO !!!"_

Seeing the movement, Dean sprinted, knocking the 12-bore from her hands, back-handing her away from him. She fell away from him laughing hysterically, deranged. Grinning triumphantly at Dean, wiping a trail of blood from the corner of her mouth, before muttering something foreign sounding - on the spot, her and her people fading away, melting back into the mists and dissolving - the unnatural storm abating, and dying away to nothingness once more, leaving but a few note worthy traces it had ever been. They all looked around, confused ...

"SAM !?!?!?!?"

Unmoving and on his back, after a moment Sam abruptly started coughing, panicked, dragging in a ragged breath; Dean already at his side."You alright, Sammy ?!?"

Raising a hand to his chest, he fully expected to find blood, damage, holes even - only just not expecting his hand to come into contact with somebody else. Shaking his head free of the fogginess and looking down, stunned, he found the woman curled up against his chest, body thrown across his. Which meant - !

Keening softly, she stirred - rolling away, comin to rest on her side, laying still; long hair spilling out, fanning across the ground, streaked red with blood. Quickly Sam sat up, reaching over and - gently as he could - rolled her onto her back. Breathing hitching, uneven; blood seeping freely down the side of her face - skin too pale, eyes closed. When he pulled his hand away from under her, it came away red with her blood. Sam gulped, "She's hurt bad, Dean..."

"Yeah, I know... "

Grimly pulling off his blue over-shirt, he folded it up and used it to staunch the bleeding, hands moving dexterously over her form. "Here" Replacing his hands with Sam's, Dean went for the Impala - sparing a glance at the bike, still parked alongside a few feet away, which had apparently remained behind as well.

Sam hunched over her, fingers finding a weak pulse point; her skin rapidly cooling to the touch. Keeping the pressure on the gunshot wound, Sam glanced up to say something when Dean pulled the car alongside and began rooting around for the medkit in the trunk; but a faint movement from her caused him to look down.

Roused by their voices, she stirred - colours blending together and blurring, she blinked her eyes open. Beyond exhaustion, slowly slipping away again, she focussed as a face swam into view above her.

"Hey... its alright, hold on ..."

Utterly confused, she tried in vain to take a breath, feeling the intense burning feeling in her back, tasting blood. Ignoring the stabbing pain it caused, she caught enough air to force herself to speak ...

He couldnt take his eyes off her as she unsteadily lifted a hand, laying her palm gently alongside his face, as if reassuring herself of his solidity before letting it drop again. She took a deep breath, the action causing her whole body to jerk with pain, and frowned up at him searchingly, even as she faded into unconciousness again; managing to whisper out questionning, incredulously, a single solitary word.

_"Sam...?"_

Stunned, the two Winchesters looked down at her in shock.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

* * *

_"Hey, its alright..."_

Head still swimming, a gentle voice sounded, reassuringly. Its familiarity tugging at her concious to take notice ... yet even before her heart had the chance to soar, realise she was safe, it fell again, sickeningly, when the gun cocked above them. Feeling more than seeing his warmth move away from her side, she finally raised her head enough to see her unlucky saviour standing with his back to her, a gun pointed resolutely at his chest.

_No..._

Shaking her head _- this can't be happening -_ she gingerly gained purchase on the ground below her, wobbly, clumsy like a newborn foal; eyes fixed on the gypsy's unwavering aim. Anger and desperation burned through her, resolute. Gathering the last of her strength, she vowed to herself that if this was _it_, then by the gods, she was at least taking that old bitch with her - she wouldn't, couldn't let her hurt him ...

So when the gypsy's hands moved, she let out a cry she didnt know she'd been holding -

_"NOOOO !!!"_

Then there was nothing but pain - searing white hot agony flashing across her back, burning through her - even as she flung herself infront of him, pushing him out of the way. Concious just enough for euphoric relief to flood her when she'd felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed before darkness had swallowed her whole, seemingly for an eternity...

Until, sluggishly blinking, a familiar face had appeared momentarily above her, brows creased in worry, lips moving yet she couldn't make out the words._ What the...?_

_I must be dreaming ..._ she didnt know whether her voice was inside her head, or spoken aloud ... _Its so cold..._

Trying to reach, her palm grazed the side of his cheek. So at least she knew, if he was a hallucination, at least it all felt darn real... Feeling herself slipping away again, she'd mustered enough strength for her disbelieving self to whisper his name

_"Sam... ?"_

Then there was nothing but the unending black, the occasional intermittant flashes of colour, voices, noise... drifting endlessly...

----------------------------------------

Lost to the passage of time, awareness came slowly: like gradually awakening from a deep dream. She was warm, comfortable, the surface below her soft and yeilding. Voices murmered around her, which triggered her muddled mind into action - _who ... ?_ minute movements suddenly kicked her senses into overdrive, the abrupt sudden excruciating pain causing her to gasp, a moan escaping her lips. Everything _hurt._

The pleasant warmth of the moment before was now boiling, unbearable - her very blood feeling like it was on fire. She writhed, trying to escape it...

The surface dipped beside her, creaking slightly, and deliciously cool, calming fingers slid slowly across her forehead, feather light strokes stilling her movement.

_" Sssshhh_ its alright ... you're safe now ..."

Vision swam into focus briefly, and she fixed onto the most beautiful, intense pair of green eyes hanging over her. She tried to speak, will her voice into cooperation, but his continued slow stroking was more melting than the fire in her veins; his cool hands leeching the burning from her even as she fought to keep her eyes open. Unable to fight it, she surrendered; just catching sight of his lips, the corners quirking upwards in a slight but genuine smile as her eyelids drooped and she let out a long sigh, leaning into his hand. Quietened under his touch, she lay in the dark; eyes closed but still vaguely aware of everything around her. A door clicked, and the sounds of shuffling feet

"How's she doing? still unconcious?" the voice sounded, concerned, from the other side of the room

"Yeah" the weight alongside her shifted, the stroking stopping. Unable to prevent it, she whimpered softly, pitifully. "The fever's broke, though"

Sounds of dripping water and material being twisted, then the cool hands were back, placing what felt like a wet piece of cloth across her forehead, causing her to shiver. A fleeting stoke down her cheek and abruptly, the weight was gone - the surface below her straightening back out as he moved away.

"She called out your name again" his voice held just a touch of disapprovement to it.

"We've been over this already Dean - I've never seen her before."

"Yeah, you said. But since _she _seems to know_ you _well enough... I dunno, colour me curious: if I'd had a one night stand with a hot foreign exchange chick, I'd at least remember her..."

"_DUDE!_ I didn't ..."

"Yeah, whatever _Romeo_ ..." the voice was sarcastic, smug. "...Bitch"

"_Jerk! _"

Silence for a few moments, interrupted only by the intermittant _tipitty tap_'ing sound of a keyboard. Then, a scraping noise, like a chair being pulled around; "C'mon, geekboy, whatch'a got"

"Other than the fact she doesnt exist? Oh, _Nothing_ " the voice still sounded indignant, then sighed "Look - see for yourself..."

"... this here? is supposed to be her driving liscense. Now, according to the DSA's records, it doesn't exist - seriously. So, I contacted the UK Passport and Identity Agency - who, confirmed they havent any record of her _either_. Now _neither_ her name and address, _nor_ the accounts for the bank cards in her wallet, match up. Half the phone numbers in her mobile don't connect, and I can't even find a listing for her in the Births, Marriges and Death register... there's just no paper trail at all."

"How's that possible ..."

"I dont know."

There was a pause, and she nearly drifted off again.

"Did you have a close look at her picture?"

"Yeah ..."

"Their different"

Quieter now "_I know_"

"We should've ..."

"..._''taken her to the hospital''..._" he mimicked " Yeah, I _got_ that - but dumping her ass in the carpark was hardly an option, was it? She _knew_ you, for chrissakes! What was I meant to do? Huh???"

Another long pause, and he spoke, more reasonably "She's not a demon as far as we can make out ... maybe the ID's fake."

"I thought of that too. I had a quick root around in the INS database, see if she'd passed through there - but no"

"So, we've got nuthin' ?"

"Pretty much - unless, of course, you've got a better idea."

"Breakfast"

"Excuse me?"

"Breakfast ...that bizarre, usually early morning ritual of coffee, food ..."

"I know what breakfast is, thanks"

"Good, Lets go"

"And just leave her here?"

"Sam, I've sat up with her all night -_ all night -_ So unless you've got a morbid inclination to inspect your own entrails, I'd suggest you get me some coffee. Black. _And lots of it_. Understand?"

Amused "Well _somebody'_s tetchy this mornin' "

_"SAM"_

Laughter now, "OK! okay... we're going..."

Movement in the room now, chairs scraping, the rustle of clothing and footsteps back and forth. Low draughts of air whispered over her skin, rousingly, as the door clicked open again

_" Finally! ..._ I'm gonna get Ellen or Bobby to sit in with her. _Meet me at the car_..."

The last part was muffled, the door snicking shut behind them; causing another puff of fresh air - only this time, with one difference.

River opened her eyes.

* * *

_sorry bout the swap, fixing some spelling mistakes ... things like that bug me :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Chapter 6_

_" Finally! ..._ I'm gonna get Ellen or Bobby to sit in with her. _Meet me at the car_..."

Just catching a quick glimpse of the brown leather back of his jacket even as the door swished shut, she listened to their voices and footsteps dying away. Slowly, her dizzy meandering mind caught up with the rest of her

_Wait, Where'n hell ... ?_

Carefully, muscles protesting, she gently - with head throbbing and gritted teeth - manouvered herself akwardly over onto her side. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she took her time to slowly sit up. Casting an unsure glance around the sparse little room, looking for anything familiar; she spotted her bike leathers and helmet stowed away in the corner under a table; her wallet and its contents, spread around the tabletop. Frowning, she made to get up and deal with it, when the sudden ripping pain of movement caused her to gasp, weakened knees buckling; catching the window ledge, just about keeping her vaguely upright as her vision doubled; breathing hard as pain lanced down her spine and burned agonizingly through her shoulders.

White-knuckled, after a few moments she forced herself into releasing her death-grip on the sill - once the room stopped spinning, that is. Gradually, she eased herself up. Curling a finger, she lifted the closed blind slightly - and gaped at her surroundings.

"Something tells me we ain't in Kansas anymore... " she murmered, astounded; the blind slipping shut through her nerveless fingers. Thinking, irrationally -_ Oh shit oh shit oh shit..._

Managing to flit haltingly across the room to the half-open door in the other wall, she leaned her head cautiously inside; the empty bathroom still and quiet. Moving over, she began running water into the sink before gingerly pulling her Tshirt off; hissing, when the fabric stuck. Catching glimpse of herself in the slightly fogged mirror above the sink, she sucked in a breath, shocked - she looked like hell. Slightly feverish and pale as death, her entire upper torso was literally black and blue with bruises, which disappeared down beneath her leather jeans. Turning aside, admiring her profile; the deep reddened welts stretching up her ribs, across her skin in places looking particularly spectacular.

Tentatively, she bathed the area across her right shoulder as best she could, soaking the Tshirt through until it pulled sticky, tearing away from the flesh and tossing it aside. Underneath, a large gauzy white surgical pad was taped in place: the material slowly staining bright crimson... in a flash, abruptly she _remembered_ - the chanting and feeling like she was being ripped apart, changed, piece by piece... the flash of white-hot heat even as the gun went off...

Shivering pale, she slid her hand down through the cool condensation on the mirror, clearly revealing her reflection. Running her fingers gingerly through her long hair, lifting and scraping it back, she leaned in close - finding the source of the headache, a haphazard cut trailing from the deep bruise within her hairline down her forehead. Then something abruptly caught her attention; riveted to the spot, horrified, she froze.

Confused, alien mismatched eyes - wide in disbelief - stared back at her. Wordlessly, her trembling fingers reached upwards

_... They ... They arent ... they arent ..._

Nauseous, her stomach abruptly_ heaved, _all at once finding herself on her knees at the toilet, retching and gagging for breath; even as she repeatedly, violently threw up.

Gasping for air; desperately trying to slow the hammering of her heart, the tightness constricting her veins. Pushing herself back on her heels, hurting head in her hands she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply... cool air soothed the burning. Holding herself quietly, patiently - she found her resolve.

Grimly determined, she reached up - obsinately ignoring her limbs protestations - gripped the edge of the sink and hauled her aching body to its feet. Splashing her face with freezing water, she rinsed out her mouth; feeling better now, calmer. Composed, she flicked her eyes back to the mirror. Head tilted slightly, she leaned in as close as she could without touching the cool glass, studying.

Her right eye was the deep stormy blue it had always been, the iris a small black pinprick under this harsh lighting: making the colour seem streaked, light greyish, flecked with silver. _Cold._ Turning her head, it almost looked normal...

Almost.

Her left eye, however, was a whole different story.

The slender, intense circlet of blue almost blazed luminous with its intensity, encasing an iris so dilated, her entire eye almost appeared black. The effect was strangely hypnotic; mismatched depths drew you in, trapping with startling ease.

Turning her head this way and that, her gaze never leaving, locked on to her counterparts. It was just - weird. Her eyes had always been her best feature, _but now..._ she concluded ..._ now they're somethin' else_

Idly, she wondered if the damage was permanent; when a small half smile quirked the corner of her lips, thinking sarcastically -_ Jareth, eat your heart out._

Flinching suddenly, the spell was broken - a quiet ticking of a clock reverbrating loudly in the quiet reminding her of whereabouts, of time passing unnoticed. Hurriedly rooting through an open medical kit lying beside two washbags, she quickly peeled back the wadding on her shoulder, replacing the now tarnished blood-soaked padding with a new set of bandages. She dropped the soiled surgical pad at her feet with the ruined bloody t-shirt, and proceeded to rinse her tender back and torso clean; scrubbing at her pale face. Grabbing a clear plastic packet next to the motel soap, she unwrapped the mini-disposable toothbrush and quickly rid her mouth of the bitter taste, before discarding it also.

Purposeful now, and feeling a damn sight better, River made her way carefully back into the main room. Spotting an open bag lying open messily at the base of one of the beds, she pulled the first top she could see out of it, slipping the black material on with some difficulty and tucking it into her leather trousers as she moved to the window again, opening the blinds slightly and peering out. _Christ, where the hell am I?_

On the road outside, a couple of cars past - oddly, on the wrong side of the carriageway; taken aback - yet still, glancing around, the room appeared to back directly onto a little parking lot, and with some relief, she spotted her bike tucked away right at the far side of the lot, sandwiched between a big old battered Ford pickup truck and some shaggy fir trees. Straightaway, she began to formulate a plan, ducking away from the window as she caught sight of movement outside: an american couple strolling by, leaving her unnoticed

_I've got to get out of here ..._

With no idea who or how the hell she'd ended up in a strange hotel room, she wasn't exactly wanting to hang around to find out. Her eyes fell to the table... with rapid strides, she covered the distance, still feeling a little fuzzy 'round the edges but adrenaline pushing her through it. Sitting, she lifted her things from under the table, pilling them up on the chair adjacent to her before pulling on her boots, leaving them undone. Pushing aside the laptop and scattered papers, she gathered her wallet's contents together, stuffing them into her jacket pocket, zipping it closed. She pulled on the thick leather, her jacket comforting in its weight, the feel of something solid and familiar under her palms.

_shit where's the goddamned keys ?!?_

Nowhere to be seen, hastily she began rifiling through the room, hunting them down. Realisation hit her that it was taking too long, the feeling building in her gut that at any minute, somebody, anybody, was going to walk through that door and catch her - so, raising her leg, she planted her foot on the end of the bed and reached down inside her boot, hoping against hope that whoever had brought her here, hadn't found the spare key threaded through the inner laces... grinning triumphantly, she pulled the cold metal free; before quickly tightening both boots up and snapping the leather shin casing back in place. Just as she turned to go, an object caught her eye.

On the floor, discarded, lay a slim worn leather wallet. Curiousity winning out over her need to flee, she bent over, picking it up. Flipping it open, she began searching methodically for some clues as to the people that had brought her here. Inside, it contained a small bundle of notes, some plastic, tatty recipts; nothing much out of the ordinary at first glance. But, as she pulled the few credit cards out, she began to realise they were all listed under different names; useless, she tossed them one after the other on the bedcover. Spotting a dog-eared photograph just poking out of an inner compartment, she grasped the edge and pulled - a plastic card dislodged, falling loose to the floor. Absentmindedly, she picked up the card even as she studied the picture - the pretty blond smiling back, caught in the act of giggling at whoever had held the camera. Still musing over the fact she was_ sure_ she recognised the woman's face from _somewhere,_ she turned the card - a student ID - over in her hand.

Incredulously, she stared at it; alarm bells going off - Remembering hazily the face she thought she'd seen hanging over her after she'd been shot

_...Nah ... no way. Its a fake - just some collector's card..._

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the wild notions running through her mind. Unthinkingly, she pocketed the university pass. Holding the wallet open with her thumb, she pulled out the wad of notes - realising as she did so, that they were foreign, not pounds sterling. Suddenly, things - disturbingly - began to click into place. The american bills in her hand, the landscape, the numberplates in the carpark

_...Its not possible..._

Seeing a discarded motel leaflet on top of the tv, she snatched it up. Finding the address, scrolled in small print, along the bottom _- **Town House Motel, 525 S. Main, P.O. Box 33, Lusk, WY 82225**._ Openmouthed, she could only gape, repeating over and over_ ... Its not possible... its not possible... holy shit..._

Spurred into action, mind made up - she peeled off a couple of bills and palmed the rest. Dropping the wallet, she seized her helmet and made for the door. Opening it just a crack, she peered out furtively, blinking in the bright light. Still seeing no signs of movement, she slunk out keeping close to the wall; the door snicking shut behind her.

Hugging the edge of the building, at a quick run, she double-checked her surroundings before cuting across the carpark, ducking down; keeping low using the cars for cover as she worked her way towards the battered blue towtruck, eyes fixed on the point in space where her bike gleamed in the early morning light.

_Hang on baby, I'm coming ..._

_

* * *

_

Descending down the front steps, Dean barely made it onto the kerb before Sam climbed back out the car. Spreading his arms wide, he asked testily _"What now?!?"_

"I forgot my wallet, Dude ..."

"Aww_ c'mon! "_ he huffed, getting in the car and slamming the door, through the open window he catcalled "Its just _any excuse_ not to pay with you... "

Walking back to the motel room still chuckling, hands in his pockets, Sam pulled out the room key. Letting himself in, without looking he shut the door quietly as possible behind him and turned; his mind taking a moment to process what his eyes were seeing.

The bed was empty.

Pulling a .45 from the bag under the end of Dean's bed, he got his back against the wall, darting looks about the room following with the gun's muzzle. Spotting the bathroom door partially closed, he pushed forward, gun extended, and kicked open the door; sliding in and clearing the room. Shoving aside the shower curtain, he lowered the 1911 slightly, noting the bundle of materials laying on the bathroom tiles. Lifting the ripped bloody t-shirt from the floor with the tips of his fingers, he let it fall. Stepping back into the room, realising it was far too quiet, he took the time to look around properly - on top of his wallet being decimated, all her things were missing. Under his breath, he swore.

_She was gone._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Hey, it's about time ..."

Sam, breathless from running, leaned against the window frame and thumbed back towards the direction of their room, gasped out _"DEAN !_ she's _gone..."_

Scrambling out of the car, he snapped out _"Godammit !"_ slamming the Impala's door with a loud _bang._ Already moving, he reasoned "Well, she can't have got that far ..."

The words, even as he spoke them, died in his throat.

Pulling out from behind Bobby's truck, he saw the bike at the same time she saw them. Under her helmet, her mouth dropped, eyes wide open and face blanching in shock - she brought the machine to a thrumming halt. Wordlessly, for several long moments they simply stared at one another.

Seeing her slowly beginning to panic, eyes flicking back and forth between them, Dean held up his hands; sharing a look with his brother. He didn't move, but even as he went to speak, Sam - with a pleading, sympathetic look on his face - moved a step towards her. _Wrong move._

Instantly she recoiled, flinching physically; her fingers pulling in the clutch even as she dropped a gear and screamed the bike by them - causing Dean to kiss dirt, throwing himself out of the way. Rolling to his feet, they tore after her - running, just catching sight of her cornering onto the main street on the wrong side of the road, before correcting herself and accelerating away hard. Coming to a halt, Dean, sounding seriously pissed, threw his hands up in the air in defeat, repeating his mantra of before, only far louder this time.

_"GODAMMIT !!!"_

* * *

_Reviews are my rock-salt ... lets face it, theres no such thing as having too much ammo. Any contributions :)_


	7. Chapter 7

---------------------------------------------------

_Chapter 7_

**_Three Days Later..._**

Gravel crunched underfoot as she rolled the bike kerbside, pushing the near-empty machine by the dated flickering neon roadsign even as it spluttered into life under the fading late afternoon sun. Slipping by unnoticed, she quietly cut between the solitary few random vehicals and parked up close against a small boarded-up building, out of plain sight. Stuffing her gloves inside her helmet, she turned, sitting back an leaning against the bike for support. Wearily, from the shadows in which she stood, River looked around - some ways away, further down the leafy road ahead she could just make out a small collection of buildings strewn haphazardly around a small intersection. But other than the pitstop of a bar across from her, literally, that was it.

Welcome to the arse end of nowhere ...

Raising a hand, River rubbed her eyes in frustration.Out of fuel, and nearly out of money, she had two options. Either keep riding on fumes and hope to find a petrol station or stop and try to either make some money, or worst case senario, steal some fuel. Or quite possibly - both. A truck passing caused her to glance up briefly, only half-interested, as the pick-up pulled up outside the bar across from her in a cloud of dust. The burly long-haired driver got out and slammed the door, muttering, pausing only to hold open the bar's heavy wooden swing door for his limping passenger who held his casted right arm gingerly in a lurid green sling. She watched them disappear inside, still weighing up her options. Her stomach growled, loudly; still indecisive, her meandering feet made the decision.

Head down deep in thought, helmet in hand, scuffing up little clouds of dust with her boots - River squared her shoulders determinedly just before pushing open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the tavern's dimly lit cool interior. Hearing the faint rumblings of conversation pause in her wake, avoiding eye contact, she made her way quietly towards the end of the bar nearest the exit, and perched on one of the tall barstools. Out of the corner of her eye, seeing the guy with the sling and three others crowded around the opposite end of the bar - their heated conversation with the rotund middle-aged barman abruptly ceasing as they glanced up at her with warily, with interest. She paid no obvious attention, setting her helmet on the pitted bartop to her side.

"What'll it be?"

He'd stopped infront of her. Without looking directly up, she answered "Coffee"

She caught the amused quirk of the edge of his lips as he picked up on her obvious accent, the mirth tainted his voice as he asked "Anything else, darlin'?"

Unamused, River sharply flicked her gaze upwards; saw him start, skin blanched as his pupils widened in shock. Rocking back on his heels involuntarily, his body physically flinched as he met her gaze.

Its funny, the things you can get used to

Dryly, she repeated "Just the coffee for now, thanks"

He scuttled off, shooting her a backwards glance, and the conversation gradually started once again at the opposite end of the bartop. She bided her time silently, taking in her surroundings, keeping tabs on the snatches of conversation within earshot. The place was practically empty - other than the patrons at the bar, two others we're finishing off a game of pool at a table in the far corner. Even as she watched, they drained the last of their drinks, picked up their coats and left - the swing door letting in a last shaft of almost faded sunlight announcing their departure.

Truthfully, the place was far larger than it had appeared from outside. Full of dark nooks, crannies and few windows; where everything from the peeling paint, the fading forgotten band posters to the heavily marked bartop and pitted raised stage screamed its misuse - for all accounts, it looked the type of place you could nickname 'Red's' simply after the colour its customers would spray the walls with every night. The thought made her smile, reminded of another dingy hole of a bar she been in. The rattle of the coffee cup brought back her attention. Nodded her thanks, she warmed her hands round the mug, and slowly sipped the burning liquid gratefully. The barman nodded in return, wiping his hands on his cloth, and retreated back to the heated discussion at other end of the bar, leaving her in peace.

The raised angry voices rapidly grew louder.

"We could play without a guitarist..."

"A rock band with just a base guitar? dont be fucking stupid..." the big blond driver, massive paw wrapped around a bottle of bud, snarled back.

"Well what do you suggest? "

Pause, then the bald guy perched to the right idly twirling a drumstick shrugged "Could just stick some music on over the sound system ..."

The barman huffed at that, crossing his arms "And have to deal with everyone who walks through that door expecting live music? _No way_. I intend to have a buisness _left_ to run at the end of the night. You boys must know somebody else"

The guy in the sling snorted, shook his head "Huh, not who'd come here, anyway."

"_Up yours, _dickhead. You were happy enough to take the money to"

"Yeah, until some of your so-called customers jumped me. Remember, im the one with the busted arm here. Your damn lucky I dont sue"

"SHUT UP, Al, you were the one hitting on the dude's girlfriend." silent until now, the dark long-haired guy closest to her leaning on the bar staring off into space spoke up, casting a curious eye in her direction.

Blond guy snorts then, amused "Serves you right for being a prick"

"FUCK YOU! least I ain't no fucking pussy..."

"Nah, your just a cheap shot with a big mouth... keep it up an' I wont miss - i'll break your scrawy little neck"

"Pack it in, Iain..." the barman warned "...or take it outside"

The sullen guy with the sling - Al - shut up for a few moments. The dark haired guy pushed up away from the bar with a sigh "Lets face it. We're _screwed_"

A quiet voice broke through their thoughts, breaking the silence that followed.

"I can play"

For a few moments, they simply just stared at her - A beat up, bruised, grimy-looking biker, sitting quietly sipping her coffee, rather than look directly at them. When she didn't say anything else, for a second, he began to doubt she'd even spoken at all.

"Sorry, what?"

River placed the mug down, even as she spoke again, folding her arms."You need a guitarist... I can play" when nobody spoke, she shrugged, picked up her mug again "...But, if you're not interested..."

"NO! Wait ..." the barman looked a little at a loss, when the shocked others didn't respond right away. "Uhh..."

"What do you need?"

"Umm, Mostly metal, classic rock - all that type of thing - usually requests mainly ..." the barman ventured

When she raised an eyebrow, the dark-haired guy hastily added "ACDC, Metallica, Guns N' Roses ... y'know that sorta thing"

"Not a problem... "

Al guffawed, skeptically. "Yeah, right ..."

Her jaw clenched, and very deliberately she put her mug back down on the bar, before looking up at them directly for the first time - in her annoyance, shrugging off the same response from them to her odd eyes as she'd recieved before. Al, the injuired guitarist, seemed to shrink - withering away uncomfortably under her mismatched steely gaze.

"I can prove it, if you want... or, are you afraid of a little competion?" she smirked at the indignant look that flashed across his features.

The big blond - Iain - peered out from under his sunglasses, speaking evenly "You seem pretty sure of yourself"

"I am"

Al piped up again "A bit ballsy coming from someone covered in bruises..."

"Says the guy in the sling." she bit out sarcastically "And anyway, you shouldnt assume that _they_ dont look _far_ worse than I do..."

The last comment left an uncomfortable note in the air, and she hastily covered it up by looking directly at him again, even though he now avoided her gaze "But that seems to be you all over, from what I've heard - always _assuming_ things"

There was collective outright laugher at that, and he looked to be fuming. Even the barman chuckled, nodding "She's got you marked down right, for sure"

"Get stuffed" Al mumbled miserably into his beer, to the tune of more laughter.

She swirled the last of her coffee in the mug, preparing to finish it off when a compliment from Iain made her pause. "Nice contacts, by the way"

She didnt look up, spoke quietly "They're not contacts"

"Oh...right..."

"Takes a bit of getting used to" she offered, before emptying the mug.

"Well, its cool anyway"

She nodded "Thanks"

The barman piped up "So accent like that, means you aint no local... where y'a from?"

"Scotland" her heart twisted, but she didnt let it show.

"Scotland? Nice..." he winked at her " So, Long way from home, then ..."

Her mouth dry, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"What brings you over here?"

"This and that ..." she answered vaguely, slowly remembering all the craziness up until now and the madness she'd run from...

Sarcasm took over again when the thought struck her "You could say, I sort of unexpectedly dropped in on some friends..."

He gestured towards her bruised cut forehead as he dried another glass "Dont look like they we're too friendly to me..."

Hearing the sound was so close, it almost sounded like an audible whisper in the air around her _**"you are an abhorration, Muló... "**_ caused her to shudder, lost in thought

"Not everyone is... well, _pleased_ to see me, I mean ..."

The odd tone of her voice made him glance at her questioningly, and he made the most of standing back and taking notice of her while she wasnt paying any real attention to him for the first time.

Had he been 20 years younger, he'd be having a crack at this gal himself - there was no doubtin' she was pretty - even looking like she did at the moment; Deathly pale, scratched, bruised and covered in road dust; her hair was scraped back in a loose knot and dark shadows under her eyes showing she hadnt slept in a number of days. As his keen eye roved over her, he guessed from the almost infinitesimal, minute way she was holding one side of her body rigid, he guessed her injuiries definately went a bit deeper than that. But worst of all, was the desolate haunted expression in her strange eyes - he didnt know from what, but she was running alright. Quietly, he cursed whoever it was to rot in hell.

"Well, here's hopin' they bastards get hit by a truck" he nodded sagely, quietly admiring as her defences never faltered, nor her unwavering cool mask.

She smirked "Chance'd be a fine thing"

"Well, good things come to those who wait..." he quoted, patting the Guiness tap, with a cheery grin. "So how long you plan on being here?"

"Guess thats a question only worth asking after I play..."

The barman nodded, "True"

"So, no other real plans, then?" Iain asked, standing up and stretching his big frame.

"I'm winging it"

"Fair enough... takes all kinds in this buisness." The barman nodded, knowingly "But since its your first night..."

She held up her hand, stopping him from speaking any further "Look, Im not one for beating about the bush, so lets get some things straight before we go any further - if you take me on, its cash in hand and same cut as everyone else. Any problems, delays in pay, or general funny buisness then consider me gone - I walk, right there and then. Got it? If that doesnt suit, then go find somebody else"

"Well, just as long as we're reading from the same hymn sheet - you mind this, girlie. This place aint no picnic - there's enough trouble with a capital T finding its way here easy enough as is. So I dont need anyone with a mind to adding to it. You catch my drift? I wont have anyone here with cause to bring the law sniffing around... I've got my license to think of. "

"I'll keep that in mind"

"You do that. As for the rest, well, you're more than welcome - the band's always cash-in-hand anyway. That do?"

"Suits me"

He eyed her sidelong, as the thought struck him "There aint many places we're considered to be exactly local to, and we close pretty late - you stayin' someplace nearby?"

"You could say that... Im parked up outside. That's near enough. No point in making any plans just yet"

"How so?"

"I might be a lousy musician..."

"And if you're not?"

"Then time will tell, wont it?"

"Hmph..." He stepped partially out of sight into a doorway behind the bar, lifted something off the wall, and reappeared, looking at whatever it was he held in his hand. Abruptly, he tossed it in her direction, and the key thudded down on the bartop next to her. She made no move to pick it up, simply raised an eyebrow questionningly.

"You'll need someplace to freshen up" he offered gruffly, as means of explanation.

"I dont need charity, if its all the same"

"And i'm not offering it. You asked to be the same as them - so you are. Room's part of the deal. No point letting 'em drive someplace drunk as a skunk"

He saw her mulling it over, but she didnt reach for the keys. "Look, now if If I end up keeping you on longer, you can deal with it then. As you said, time will tell. Meantime, this place'll be filling up with the scum of the earth anytime soon and I need a band ready to go." He looked at his watch "So you better get a move on"

Finally, she picked up the keys. As she turned to walk away, he called after her. "Name's Joe, incase you're wondering... I didn't catch yours"

She looked back, acknowledged them all. "River"

"River..." Joe rolled the word around his tongue, savouring it "...well, it suits ya. But you're one tough cookie, you know that kid?"

"I'll take that as a compliment"

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_Yello! sorry bout the long delay in updating - I've been touring through Europe. Soo groovy... Im chuffed to pieces about how this little fic's been doing. Anyhoo, next update comin' real soon so hope this whets your appetite til then :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Major** spoilers for episode 3x01... So if you don't wanna know, don't read on! Everything in here's mine, apart from the chrts/excerpts from the aforementioned episode which belong to nice folks who don't sign my paycheck (but hey, I'm always up for a career change...hint hint!)_

_As usual, I still dont get anything from except a cheerful sense of accomplishment and the occasional cookie!_

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_**Chapter 8**_

_**Lincoln, Nebraska**_

" C'mon " he chuckled, softly "you really think something like _that_ is going to fool someone like _me_? I mean, _ME ? _"

" Lemme guess." Sam stated, with raised brows " You're _PRIDE_ "

With a smug smile, Pride lifted his hand in acknowledgment - demolishing the devil's trap upon the ceiling with a loud _crack, _plaster raining down between them. Inadvertently, Sam gulped.

"_ Hmmm_ the root of all sin. And you..." slowly, grinning like a predator filled with knowledge, Pride stepped closer " ... are Sam Winchester."

Sam's eyes flicked back and forth between the three demons, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another as Pride continued self-assuredly "That's right, I've heard of ya. _We've __all__ heard of ya."_ Pride cocked his head, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively "_The prodigy_... The 'boy-king'..." he snorted a little, then, grinning widely "Lookin' atcha now, I gotta tell ya - don't believe the hype"

Pride's self satisfied smug grin faded then "You think I'm gonna bow to a cut-rate piss-poor human like you?" He nodded in Sam's direction, before tossing his head dramatically "I have my _PRIDE_ after all"

Sam lips barely quirked at the exchange, face stony.

"And now, with your yellow-eyed friend dead, I guess I don't _really_ have to do a damn thing, now do I? " the over-wide grin was back, running a shudder the length of Sam's spine, even as he gulped again.

"You're fair game now, _boy..._" Pride's pitch-black eyes glittered, face twisting sickeningly, with glee ".. and its _open season_"

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_**White Pine, Sanders County, Montana**_

Sweat glistened across her skin as she lay tangled in the bedsheets; a quiet groan escaping her lips as she turned, dislodging the now near empty rum bottle causing it to slip to the floor with a dull thud.

_'You did good, kid...'_

The old barman had nodded wryly, with a grin - not batting an eyelid but pleased nonetheless afterwards when she'd started helping clear glasses and sweep floors at the end of the night unasked but right there alongside him. Business had been good, better than usual; didn't take a genius to figure out local folks curiosity was the real reason behind it... so the longer she stuck around, the better - word of mouth was a wonderful thing.

She'd slid a note straight back over the bar top from her night's fee, lifting the heavy glass bottle as part-payment instead; Joe hadn't said a word. Simply kept his mouth shut, kept cleaning his glasses. Wasn't his place to judge; Nor to mention the thin trickle of fresh blood he'd spied winding its way down the back of her arm as she'd left.

Half-curled around a worn pillow aching and alone in her t-shirt and underwear, River shivered, moaning quietly - locked in a restless, uneasy sleep.

_"Well you look like hell warmed over"_

_"Well you try exorcising all night, see how you feel "_

The scene's were barely there - obscure, fuzzy around the edges... blurred and intangible, the veiled sights, sounds and sensations drifted aimlessly by, enveloping her. Lucid enough to be consciously aware she was dreaming, yet helpless to do anything about it.

_"Any survivors bobby?_

_" Well the pretty girl and the heavy guy, they'll make it. lifetime of therapy bills ahead, but still... "_

_" Huh, its more than you could say for these poor bastards "_

_" Bobby that knife - what kinda blade can kill a demon? "_

_" yesterday i'd have said there was no such thing... "_

Seemingly powerless, she drifted, drawn ever closer as the scenes cleared. Opening her eyes, she passed by so close, a hairs-breadth away, that she could feel the warmth radiating off the three of them, finding it oddly comforting. Curious, she tiptoed to look over his shoulder; seeing the three prone bodies in the shallow grave for the first time. Missing a beat, her heart twisted and she gasped, flinching back - just as Dean shivered, moving slightly forwards away from her, aiming his words at Sam. Bizarrely, the thought flashed across her mind _- __**Did he hear me?**_

_" am just gonna ask it again, who was that masked chick? Actually, the more troubling question would be how come a girl can fight better than you "_

_" three demons dean ... "_

_" ah... "_

_" at once. "_

_"hey, whatever it takes to get you through the night, pal "_

_" well, if you want a troubling question, i got one for ya "_

_" whats that? "_

_" if we let out the seven deadly sins...what else did we let out"_

There was a long pause and for a second, as she closed her eyes, River almost began to hope the unsettlingly real feeling dream would simply fade away into the dark. That is, until the quiet voice spoke again.

_" you're right, that is troubling "_

The flare of heat scorching her senses caused her to flinch, feeling the flash of flames across her skin even as she could smell, taste the thick cloying smoke even as she instinctively pulled away.

Darkened now - distanced and unintelligible - the voices murmured as she desperately tried to refocus instead of spinning in the dark. Gradually, the mumblings gained clarity and feeling slightly nauseous, she tried to latch onto that thin thread; voyeuristic, she honed in on them.

_" keep you're eyes peeled for omens. i'll do the same. "_

_" you got it "_

_" wait, bobby. we can win this war, right? "_

Her heart plummeted at the question, feeling the weight of desperation and dread settling around her like a dead weight; even as she heard him answer with - _" i'll catch ya on the next one "_

The sensation of cool earth under her feet, of crickets and wind whispering by, catching her hair made her suddenly aware - light blue sky, thick deep green trees, a building behind her and a little wooden bridge, the Impala off to one side - _**Wait... what?!? where the hell am I now?**_

_" So where to? " _The voices were getting closer.

_" Ah, I dont know, I was thinking Louisiana mebbe? "_

_" Little early for Mardi Gras, isn't it? "_

_" Yeah... listen I was talking to Tamara and she mentioned this hoodoo priest thats just outside Trefort that might be able to help us out, you know, with your demon deal"_

She turned on her heel, and nearly jumped out of her skin in fright when she narrowly missed colliding into the back of Sam. Trembling, she stumbled backwards, seeing him also hunch his shoulders, if cold, against her.

_" Nah"_

_" Nah? was does that mean, nah?"_

_" Sam, no hoodoo spell is gonna break this deal,alright - its a goose chase"_

_" But, we dont know that..."_

_"... yes we do, forget it, you can't help"_

_" look its worth - ! "_

_"...we're not going, and thats that. What about reno, huh? "_

Never taking his eyes off Sam, he stepped by him - straight for her. Pinned between the Impala and them, feet feeling like lead, she tried to move - only to find she couldn't. Sam's outflung arm, catching him, stopped him from moving any further.

_" Y'know what? I've had it. Ive been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you, and - I dont care anymore"_

_" That didn't last long" _

_" Yeah, well you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive, dean, and you act like you couldn't care less. What, you got some kind of death wish or somethin'? "_

_" No, its not like that. " _

_" Then whats it like, dean?... "_

_" Sam "_

_" ...Please, tell me "_

_" We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welsh our way outta the deal in any way?"_

_" Uhuh?"_

_" You die. okay? you die. Those are the terms, theres no way out of it. You try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you."_

Standing sidelong to them, she saw him sigh "H_ow could you make that deal, dean"_

Dean just shrugged, and she suddenly, the thought struck her - _**Move or they'll find you! - **_and she began to struggle once more,nearly causing her to miss his reply

_" S'cause I couldn't live with you dead. Couldn't do it. "_

_" So, what now I live and you die? "_

_" Thats the general idea, yeah " _

Terrified, she froze as they suddenly moved - her thudding wildly in her ears, she unwittingly raised her hands to stop them - a numbing, icy, stinging sensation flashed like fire up her arms: horrified, she felt her frozen breath being ripped from her chest as she slammed her eyes shut, shuddering disgusted even as they both stepped forward without pausing, passing straight _through_ her.

Stumbling initially from the shock, after a moment, amazed she looked down; opening her eyes and wordlessly turning her hands over in front of her, before slowly placing a trembling hand over her chest, feeling her heartbeat - reassuring herself she was, in fact, still _real_, still whole.

_" Yeah, you're a hypocrite, dean."_ Almost unnoticed, the conversation continued on behind her_ "how did you feel when dad sold his soul for you? 'cause I was there. I remember. You were twisted, and broken. And now, you go and do the same thing. To me... What you did was selfish."_

_" Yeah, you're right. It was selfish. But I'm okay with that."_

_" I'm not."_

_" Tough. After everything Ive done for this family, I think I'm entitled."_

As he spoke, she turned around; finding them still standing within arms reach.

_" Truth is, i'm tired, Sam. And, I dunno, Its like there is a light at the end of the tunnel"_

_" Its hellfire, dean"_

_" Yeah, well, whatever. Your alive. I feel good, for the first time in a long time. I got a year to __**live**__ Sam, I'd like to make the most of it... so what'd'ya say we kill some evil sonsabitches and raise a little hell, huh?"_

Striding off, he left Sam standing, looking back only once he'd open the drivers door of the Impala with _'are you coming yet?'_ type look

_"You're unbelievable"_ Shaking his head with a slight grin, Sam walked toward the car and got in, even as Dean started her up

_"Very true"_

Realising she still couldn't move, River began to struggle. Desperately, she tried to drag herself in any direction, but no matter how hard she pulled, her feet remained firmly fused to the floor. Seeing the car swing by her as they pulled away she frantically waved her arms, yelling at the top of her lungs "_HEY !?!_ "

For a split second, in the rear-view mirror, as they crossed the little wooden bridge she saw Dean look directly back at her and frown - abruptly, the car slowed as he turned to look over his shoulder at her just as he reached the edge of the driveway onto the road. She sighed, relieved _**he seen me, thank god...**_

But Dean turned his attention back to the road, swung the impala out, and gunned the engine, leaving her aghast - indignantly shouting _"HEY!!!! COME BACK_!!!!" even as the tail-end disappeared from view, glinting in the low sunlight.

Still, she couldn't move away from the same godforsaken spot - Throwing up her hands in frustration, she almost shouted "Now what !?!" For a long moment River stood; receiving no answer, she sighed then, letting her head hang in defeat, speaking more to herself she murmured "Ohhh I give up..."

A sudden draft of cold air whistled by her like a wraith; snapping her head back up, shivering she turned; rubbing her chilled skin warm under the palms of her hands. "Hello?" she called, bizarrely feeling as if she were no longer alone - when immediately River could have bitten off her own tongue - _**You shouldn't have done that... **_

A crawling sensation crept over her skin in the immediate dead silence that followed - the birdsong, chirping crickets, even the sounds of the wind passing through the leaves was abruptly ripped away, like someone had just flipped a switch, turning the world to mute. Slowly, she became acutely aware of the apparently deafening sound of her own heartbeat - gripped with a paralysing fear, she froze then like a rabbit in the headlights. Only her eyes moved, scanning the circle of now ominously encroaching silenced trees; petrified and overwhelmingly sure that something was there, in the grove with her, just out of sight; simply _watching_ - closing in, circling her like_** prey...**_

Trembling uncontrollably now; wide-eyed she could only watch as her breath turned to puffs of frozen white as the temperature plummeted; crystalline frosting forming across her eyelashes and the grass about her feet, the swaying trees turning to twisted grotesque pinnacles of ice. A crackling, snapping sound slowly filled the air, growing louder and louder as the colours leeched from the landscape, disappearing under the moving, writhing twisting shadows as they spread out all around her in an all-consuming flood that destroyed everything it touched. Slamming her eyes shut, she curled into herself; wrapping her arms tight around her against the scratching, crawling blackness, desperately trying to talk herself into waking up -_...its not real, its not real, its not real... _even as the first creeping liquid tendril twisted around her ankle.

Hissing malevolent whispers surrounded her, crushing, pressing and dragging her down to her knees. A thousand voices seemingly whispering, screeching and howling all at once; sneering and screaming in a language she didn't understand. Pressing her hands against her ears, eventually the scream that had been trapped inside somehow worked its way free just as the inky flowing blackness threatened to swallow her, and the cacophony of voices reached its deafening crescendo...

_...and stopped._

Stunned, after a long terrified moment she opened her eyes; shaking from head to toe and blinking confusedly against the harsh glare of light, she peered into the enveloping darkness. The writhing mass of before had vanished - nothing now appeared to be moving in the pitch blackness beyond. The sliver of illumination she kneeled in seemed to be the only tentative barrier between her and the abyss; chilled to the bone, River clenched her arms around her knees, pulling in as small as possible to fit completely inside the sphere of light, something inside pleading - _**dont leave the circle...**_

Head swimming, staring into the featureless blackness River became aware of the single shining pair of eyes reflecting back at her first - two bright amber, glowing pinpricks, slowly advancing towards her step by step, well before she could make out the rustling sounds of movement scurrying and rustling all around and toward her.

Dumb-struck, unable to tear her eyes away from the menacing, unblinking malevolent orbs boring holes into her soul, River's body began to shake uncontrollably at the sudden, paralysing fear coursing through her veins like wildfire; constricting the muscles in her throat and trapping another scream that was so desperately fighting to be set free. On the periphery of her vision, she was vaguely aware of other sets of coloured eyes, multiplying in numbers and advancing, but unable to tear her vision from the single solitary glowing deep orange pair seemingly just infront of her, commanding her will and seemingly scruitinizing deep, scouring her every inch. River shuddered, horrified, feeling her very _self_ being searched, ripped apart and stripped bare; but could not look away.

Unable to speak, unable to even summon the will to _move_, she became aware of the distinct impression of a collective silence - like these watchers were waiting, with baited breath, for this almost indistinguishable creature to pass its judgment upon her... when without warning, the bright eyes narrowed; heart thudding away, feeling like it would explode, River could barely comprehend the hissing sibilant voice that sounded, echoing eerily out of the darkness - notes of a twisted sense of accomplishment and pleasure both unmistakable and terrifying...

Instantaneous agony as three claws dug deep into the flesh covering her spine, ripping upwards...

_**''Ahhh, little one... I've been waiting so long to meet you...''**_

...Shooting her upright in bed, head still flung back, feeling fresh blood coursing down the length of her ice-covered back even as its laughter still echoed in her ears. Stumbling from the sheets she fell to the floor, panicked, scrambling away from the bed until the wall stopped her progress - white frozen breath escaping from her blue lips into the frigid air. Shivering uncontrollably, deep in shock she could only look at the arctic bedsheets she'd crawled from, her frost-covered skin, and finally, the display on the partially frozen clock.

_**6:42 am**_

_...I've only been asleep an hour..._

Painfully chilled to the bone, River pulled her jacket off the chair next to her, wrapping it and her numb limbs around herself with shaking hands. Wide-eyed, she braced herself against the wall; feeling the hot blood sliding slowly down her skin and causing the cloth of her shirt to stick to her, but she didnt dare move - eyes darting endlessly from each shadowed corner to the other. Tears glittered at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall - and unknowingly, her fingers had wrapped themselves around an inconspiciuos card, tucked away, inside of the pocket of her jacket, gripping to it like a drowning man would a lifeline as she gently rocked back and forth...

_...This isn't real... this isn't real ... isn't real..._

There would be no more sleep.

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_Reviews welcome, as always! Sorry its been so long in the making folks... :(_


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, peeps, just incase ya ain't noticed by now, I'm trying to keep it cannon by threading the story through the season (though there may come a split at some point) so contained is spoilers for ep. 3.04 - Sin City, which obviously ain't mine (nor do I make refererence to as such)_

_All excerpts throughout this story (in this chpt and others) are purely here to present the timeline... Ya know the drill :)_

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**_Chapter 9_**

_**ElizabethTown, Ohio**_

Bobby and Dean sauntered across the busy street corner in the bright sunshine, once again blending seamlessly into the bustling crowds. Dean sighed "Demon is dead; so is that hot girl it was possessing"

"Well, had to be done. Sam was savin' your life..."

"Yeah, but you didnt see it bobby, it was cold..."

Abruptly, dean stopped walking

"_Bobby_"

"Yeah"

Dean avoided his eyes, voice unsure

"Back in Wyoming, uhh...there was this moment,... yellow eyes said something to me"

Guardedly, Bobby asked "whad'he say?"

Pursing his lips, Dean glanced away, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and pausing dry-throated before he managed to hesitantly string out "that maybe when Sam came back from, well, wherever that..." for a moment, words failed him until he looked Bobby straight in the eye "...that maybe he came back different."

"Different how?"

The question was quick, almost too quick.

"I dunno, but whatever it was, it didnt sound good. You think... think, somethin's wrong with my brother?"

After an uncomfortable, over-long silence, unconvincingly Bobby spoke slowly "nah..." sceptically, he added "Demon's lie. I'm sure Sam's okay."

Dean looked at his feet, sort of half-convinced "yeah... yeah, me too."

They moved off slowly, preoccupied but continuing on walking in companionable silence; until Bobby piped up, clearing his throat "An' since we're on the subject of Wyoming... I may have found a lead on that girl"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah; it's nothin' definite as yet..." Bobby shrugged "...but seems she was spotted up in Montana by an old friend of mine. I'm headin' up that way later this week; I _was_ planning on swinging by an' checking it out"

Dean frowned, looked ready on the verge of saying something when he cut back in "I'll let ya know if I find anything"

Dean nodded, face set "Sure"

* * *

_**White Pine, Sanders County, Montana**_

In the just over two months since she'd arrived, River had fallen into a pretty steady routine – the visible bruises soon faded yet she kept herself to herself, worked far harder than asked or needed, ate little and spoke even less. Business picked up; other than her heavy nightly stints on the guitar, seeming jack-of-all trades, she'd taken to turning her hand unasked at whatever task she could find about the place much to Joe's unwavering approval. He, in turn, stopped asking questions - never pried too deeply or asked for anything in return; kept out of her affairs and turned a blind eye whenever needed.

That didn't stop him seeing, though.

After that first night, he'd kept quiet when she'd taken the booze as part-payment. Nor did he bring it up when that became something of the norm; he'd leave her at night by retreating exhausted upstairs, her still unapproachable form perched silently on a barstool with a spirits bottle at hand staring desolately into space. Finding always in the morning, the drained bottle in the bin and the previous night's mess take care of, everything once again back in its rightful place; the empty bar swept and clean.

He watched her channel all her energy, day by day, into every little thing with an intensity and focus that border lined on obsessive compulsive. If she slept, then he certainly never knew when - growing paler and paler by the moment, her strange beauty only increasing in its haunted quality. River was a coiled spring, a powder keg just waiting to explode and it didn't take much to set her off. He'd see the tell-tale unwavering stony mask come down, and it would either go one of two ways – either they backed off, or it got messy very quickly.

She'd lasted all of three days before the inevitable happened; some barfly, intoxicated by both the whiskey and the music, had his judgement impaired enough to try what most of the others had been too hesitant so far to – staggering over at lights up at the end of the night, he hadn't heeded her turned back and initial cool refusal – not taking 'no' for an answer from the little odd-eyed redhead, he'd grabbed her from behind to the tune of the jeers from the leering crowd, intent on having her.

It'd taken three of them to rip her off him – and in the end, she'd only stopped throwing punches long enough to glare daggers into the shocked silenced crowd. She wiped the guy's blood of her jaw, eyeballing the onlookers, before savagely snarling out "Who's next then?" Receiving no further takers, she'd cut a swathe through the rapidly parting crowd dragging the semi-conscious guy by the ankle, before hauling him up unaided and throwing him bodily outside.

People had tended to leave her well alone after that.

But what overall concerned Joe the most wasn't the drinking, the fighting, or the secrecy; she'd adapted, slid so easily in and out of their rough n' ready lives it was getting hard not to imagine having her around - and that was the problem.

Just that morning, River had been out back, hauling empty beer kegs up out of the cellar when he'd happened to glance out the backdoor just in time to hear her bite back a cry, drop what she was carrying, and grab her shoulder. He'd been about to run out to her when something stopped him – through River's fingers, a sudden bloom of deep crimson stained her loose white shirt and he'd hesitated – curiosity winning out, he watched her pull off the large over shirt, and use it to stem the fresh blood running from one of the many large parallel slash marks across her back from staining her strapped light T-shirt. Horrified, he'd hid as she'd silently slipped upstairs to her room, the picture of her heavily bruised,_ freshly_ marked body plaguing him.

It explained a lot.

She was obviously running already and a girl like her, he'd reasoned, just didn't go missing unnoticed and stay that way. Too many strangers had been _just passin' through_ recently, and it didn't bode well.

A bit like this guy in front of him.

"Was the food alright?"

The greying grizzly-haired guy scooped up the last of the pie, placing his fork down on the empty plate and wiping his face with the back of his hand. As he lifted his bottle of soda, he nodded "Just fine, thanks"

Joe lifted the plate away, walked over and dumped it on top the glass washer, rather than leave the bar. In the mirrored display, he saw him lean slightly forward to peer across at the photos haphazardly stuck next to the main till and his heart started to race.

"Nice gal you got there"

Speechless for a second, he turned to find himself the object of the strangers' intense scrutiny, pale blue eyes watching him closely. Flatly, and with a little anger he'd replied shortly, lying "My niece"

The guy had just nodded conversationally, and dropped his stare. After about 5-10 minutes more of idle chit chat, standing and polishing off the last of the soda with ease he'd reached for his wallet and dropped some notes on the bar.

"Thanks"

Joe watched him beat a path to the door, replacing his baseball cap on the way, stepping outside into the sunlight before the swinging door blocked his view of him. He sighed deeply, shaking his head; Lifting the discarded plate, he sauntered the short distance through to the kitchen.

In the darkened far corner of the bar, the figured smiled; he'd seen enough.

Outside and unawares, in the cab of his pickup, Bobby fished his mobile out of his pocket, and made the phone call. On the third ring, he picked up.

"I found her"

* * *

_A little short, but thats me finally back in business - got a new laptop and its all good ! more coming real soon... ;)_


End file.
